


One Hell of a Salvation

by AugustPendragon



Series: Devils & Doves [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Academia, Betrayal, Bisexuality, Character Development, Churches & Cathedrals, Clergy, Deception, Demonic Possession, Demons, F/M, Good and Evil, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Incest, Inappropriate Humor, Lust, M/M, Magic, Multi, Older Characters, Philosophy, Priests, Professors, Psychological Horror, Rape, Redemption, Religion, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Temptation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:49:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27999282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AugustPendragon/pseuds/AugustPendragon
Summary: When a mage with most useful blood hid himself in a communion of priests, the demon-infested sorcerer Asmodeus had every intent of going in and plucking him out.Unfortunately, one damningly optimistic priest had every unintentional means of preventing him doing so.
Series: Devils & Doves [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050710
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to The Hunting of the Stag, although it focuses largely on a different cast!

What irritation.

Asmodeus had arrived back at his laboratory in a glorious mood only to rapidly have everything go to shit.  
His new acquisition gone, his most useful demon gone. It didn’t take much nosing around to find out what happened. He couldn’t fault his nephew for wanting to recollect such a prize, and as it turned out the greater annoyance of it had nothing to do with him. It was—as usual—priests sticking their upright noses where they didn’t belong.

Summoning his pet back from the low bowels of damnation where it dwelled was expensive, but doable. Regaining the werewolf...  
Standing before White Church, looking up at a sanctuary glistening with wards, Asmodeus let out a nasal sigh.  
...Was more irksome.

The sorcerer toed across the boundary line. Lesser demons within his skin hissed and squealed and burned off. It could be done, but it would be noisy and messy and cost too much. He preferred to work in more subtle ways.  
Thankfully, the world provided.  
“Oh no!”  
A stupid cheerful voice that must belong to a priest. Asmodeus glanced aside to see—yes, a priest, an abnormally handsome one just slightly younger than himself. He was fussing over the juvenile troubles of a group of small children.  
“Poor little birdie! Ok, don’t cry, here’s what we’ll do! You keep him right here in this bag and run him straight to Brother Artemis! He loves all the little animals of the world, he’ll fix him up in no time! Now GO GO GO GO GO!”  
The kids scattered off with faces befitting a serious military mission. The priest raised himself up, grinning, and only then noticed the newcomer. Asmodeus, who had been giving him a very good looking over, examined him top to bottom one last time before offering a wry smile.  
“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.”  
The man had been blinking at him, as if surprised by the sight of a stranger, but when he spoke the priest beamed, moving towards him at top speed—how had he heard him, and how could he walk so fast?  
"Hello friend! I couldn't help but hear your confession—which in a way is great because you've come to the right place to find forgiveness!" In one smooth movement an arm was draped firmly around his back as he was ushered up towards the church and past the ward limits.  
It was almost too easy. The priest bringing him in negated the protections of the place. He’d be waltzing out of there with his new dog in—  
The man’s arm made contact. There was an unpleasant sudden itching swelling rapidly to burning—to FIRE—  
Asmodeus screamed and the demons within him screamed as well. At least two dozen ejected from his flesh, squirming worms and rotten dogs, lesser minions unable to withstand the heat, howling and dying on emergence into holy land. Asmodeus lurched forward and away from the bastard priest, rounding like a cornered cat, eyes wide and bright and teeth showing.  
A tense pause between the two. The priest's eyes were fixed downwards, on the black scorched marks upon the ground that his demons had left. They looked up at him, back down, back up—widened, the man gasping worriedly.  
"Um... don't panic but, I think you are possessed by demons."  
“Oh DEAR,” Asmodeus hissed. The acid in his voice would have wilted wildflowers. The priest looked completely clueless.  
“I think I’d best go right to your nearest chapel to repent. If you could just tell me the way I should be fine to get there myself.”  
Still oblivious, the man smiled.  
“Oh, of course! Although it doesn’t actually work like that. Still though, you’re in luck, because I can exorcise them all right here, right now! Come, brother, give me a hug!” Arms spread welcomingly as the priest moved towards him.  
Asmodeus promptly set an equal and opposite pace, hands raised in what looked like a placating gesture but could quickly switch into spell work.  
“Thank you, but my spirituality is—very—personal—“  
“Nonsense! Prayers are for SHARING!”  
And then the fucking priest was all but SPRINTING at him! Asmodeus cursed and whipped around like a shot. Whatever brain damage religion had wrecked upon this man, his MAGIC was real, and it had burned like a sunovabitch. Unfortunately physical activity was not his forte and the madman was rapidly gaining.  
Fuck—FUCK—so much for a subtle entrance! If the bastard got a good hold on him a lot more was going to come into the light than little pissy imps. Hells below he REALLY HATED clergy—  
He pivoted a corner and ran straight into a group of students. Good. He “accidentally” tripped a few of them and sprinted past the new blockade of bodies and into the closest building.  
He had burst into what seemed like a library, with row after row full of heavy, dusty books. Many heads turned towards him, uptight nerds glaring at the noise of his drastic entrance. But, no eager priest burst up behind him, hot on his heels. It seemed, for now, that he had lost him.  
And yet he knew it wasn’t over. If clergy had one defining trait, it was that they were all stubborn as hell. Why else would they spend years praying to a God that never answered?  
Asmodeus swept into motion, eyes scanning every row, evaluating every exit. There was an upper floor and this building seemed to be attached to a string of others. He’d exit further down and hopefully leave the fool far behind.  
Asmodeus rounded a corner—  
His quarry. Two feet in front of him, trailing alongside a blonde male. The werewolf met his eyes.  
And looked on, devoid of recognition. Asmodeus stood still as they swept past.  
It was true their introduction had been brief and traumatic, but he’d imagined the dog would remember him in SOME fashion. And yet, nothing!  
Oh, the god of this church was a masochist, so kind were they to their enemies.  
The sorcerer turned slowly and began to pace after them. The first quiet corner and off they’d go to his domain, and everything would be back as it should be.  
A snake slowly stalking his prey, keeping his distance but following diligently. The little bastards took their time, keeping to the lighter and exposed areas, other people often passing by and striking a quiet talk before moving on. Fuck, he was about to snatch him up in the middle of everyone when finally the young man stood up, excusing himself to go to the bathroom. He couldn’t help but grin, following at a distance, closing up and up and up, reaching out with a hand to take what was rightfully his—  
“Oh, there you are!” A hand clasped him firmly on his right shoulder.  
“AUGHHH!”  
Another eruption of devilry, screams as nameless things writhed and burst all over the surrounding bookshelves. The werewolf shrilled like a dying rabbit and stampeded for the exit, other students wailing and joining in his wake until he was lost in the terrified masses.  
FUCK!  
Asmodeus ripped himself away again, swearing as he crashed into a stand. The priest followed after him, cooing.  
“Don’t worry it’ll all be over in—“  
He was going to kill him. He would FUCKING KILL HIM.  
“PLEASE stop, sir,” Asmodeus gritted, pushing every natural murderous instinct to the back of his mind.  
“I am a professor from Hornmead and find a few demons useful for... instruction... and you are ridding me of all my servants!”  
The priest let out a horrified gasp at that revelation, eyes going wide.  
"Oh no! Oh no! I'm so sorry! I didn't know you were carrying good demons! Oh, poor things—I'm sorry demons!" He cried at the sizzling ember that remained of those who had been purified by his magic. He was soon addressing Asmodeus himself once more, however, before the mage could slink away from him.  
"I'm so sorry, please let me make it up to you. I am father Nathaniel, nice to meet you!" The man offered a hand then, beaming, and Asmodeus glared at it before he glared at him. It seemed to take the priest a few more seconds to understand before he apologized again and pulled something from within his robes. A pure white glove, slid over his hand, and offered to him again.  
"There we go, that ought to be better!"  
Asmodeus’ eyes narrowed further. He scrutinized the glove for damn near a minute before reluctantly offering his hand. Nathaniel clamped on. No pain—thank—  
The priest proceeded to shake his arm with the sort of enthusiasm normally reserved for frothing a drink and didn’t stop until the sorcerer’s fist “accidentally” whacked up into his face.  
The man laughed the whole thing off, and while he did Asmodeus took the moment to look him over again. Yes, his earlier appraisal had been accurate. The man had a rough handsome face and a well toned body, evident even through his unflattering clothes. Even the troublesome tattoos were intoxicating when they weren’t getting in the way. Asmodeus imagined that, gagged and bound, the man would make a VERY pleasurable companion.  
But he wasn’t here to make a priest commit sodomy. Not primarily, anyway.  
“I hate to stop you, but I really must visit the chapel now, for some private prayer.”  
“Of course!”  
Thank—  
“But first can I ask you some questions?”  
Oh HELL.

It wasn’t a question; the bastard clung to him like a shadow for over a damn HOUR.  
“What do you feed your demons?”  
“What kind of demons do you have?”  
“Do you like cats?”  
“Do you think demons can become angels? I do!”  
“What’s your favorite color?”  
“Do you have a favorite demon?”  
“Do you—“  
“Do you—“  
“Do you—“  
Asmodeus finally came to a stop in front of yet another one of the academy’s chapels, staring haplessly up the symbol of spread wings and sunlight that was meant to represent their god. This had to be a punishment. Fuck the church.  
The priest was STILL blithering behind him. What a maddening annoyance, to have been granted safe passage here only to be hounded by a complete idiot. If only he had more time and freedom to roam. Never mind getting the werewolf, though it was on the short list. What other delicacies did this place hold, what divine little relics and useful secrets were tucked away here, ripe for the taking?  
If only—  
His eyes widened. He abruptly spun about to Nathaniel, who finally shut up to instead smile expectantly at him.  
“You have quite a few questions about demons.”  
“Yes!”  
“I had come here simply to worship, but...”  
Asmodeus turned his head back to the surrounding halls, touching fingers to his chin.  
“I had been debating returning to teaching, and it now seems to me that here might be a better choice than returning to Hornmead. Your students have learned how to fight demons, but how many have learned the things you have? Perhaps if I were to teach about the nature of demons, and some of their better qualities, we could find a way to more kindly manage them.”  
And for the first time ever the man was quiet, blinking at him. That which he had so desired now unnerved him. And then a moment later the man had surged forward, Asmodeus hastily backtracking until his back pressed against the chapel's wall, trapped—  
He found himself caged like an animal by the priest's large body, not touching but ever so close, and in that moment he didn't know if the tingling under his skin was caused by the demons skittering inside him or something else. Nathaniel looked very seriously at him.  
"I have been thinking the EXACT SAME THING!" What? The man was beaming now, again.  
"It will be just like missionaries—no soul left behind! Surely if we are all God's creations shouldn't we all get the same chances—Oh I should ask Nicky—you should meet him, come!" And then his hand grasped firmly in the priest's as he was pulled along.  
Asmodeus blinked a few times, but no, here he still was; being towed along through White Church by an overly exuberant, attractive, idiotic priest, everything he’d asked for delivered on a golden tray.  
It was like their god wanted him to succeed. How kind.

Nathaniel took him deeper into the place. Half academy and half a church. They went past classrooms and chapels, statues of angels striking down demons adoring the place. Many a face turned, frowning at the stranger in Nathaniel's grasp, but no one bothered to stop them. A long hall led into a large room, with sigils painted all over the walls, portals, flashing open to let people in and out. Nathaniel led them straight for the one at the back, two other priests standing before it, seeming to guard it. They chanted the activation words as he drew close. The white ominous light it emitted made him tense up but—nothing happened as they passed through. Into another room, much like the one they were already in, but far bigger and far more guarded. Here they did have to pass several security checks, the priest giving his credentials. Where the fuck was he taking him and who was Nicky?  
Where the other building had been a church, this was an ornate aged cathedral, all high ceilings and painted glass and stoic clergy quietly making rounds through the halls.  
And then one more pair of doors, huge and imposing. The last ones, he assumed, and they were let through into a room full of intricate paintings depicting various passages of the priest's religion. At the back of the room, the biggest of them all. The symbol of their god, running all the way from ceiling to floor, and in front of it a marble desk with an empty leather chair behind it.  
"What is it, Nathaniel?"  
The voice came from the left, and he turned to see a balcony, decorated with verdant ferns, overlooking a pink sunset over—were those clouds or mist? Either way, it looked as if they were in heaven. A man, younger than him but about Nathaniel's age, stood by it, gently swirling a glass of wine in his hands. He was dressed with the colors of the church, but his clothes were different from any of the others he had seen so far. The denoted a higher rank.  
"Oh Nicky, listen—remember my idea—well, look! I'm not the only one who thinks the same!"  
The man turned to regard them, green eyes that shone brighter than any flame he'd seen. Eyes fixed directly on his, appraising, and then he smiled. It was not a pleasant gesture.  
"Does he now?"  
"Yes! See… uhhh, oh, what was your name again—nevermind that though—tell him what you told me!"  
But Asmodeus was no longer listening.

Was this...?  
By hell and hollow, it was. He had expected the halfwit to bring him to a high ranking professor. The headmaster at best.  
He’d brought him to the HOST OF SERAPHIM. The leader of this entire facade.  
Oh how easily he’d been given that which he’d so longed for.  
The guards had been outside of the room, not inside it. He had every single one of his most potent demons on his person. He had everything he’d become HIMSELF. Could he kill him? Here and now, could he—  
Nathaniel seized him and started shaking him in wild excitement and Asmodeus blinked. No, no.... not... yet.  
_Careful, Asmodeus._  
A woman’s voice, rich with amusement.  
_I know._

The sorcerer offered a sweeping bow.  
“My name is Asmodeus Kazin. I am a professor at Hornmead, although I’ve been on sabbatical these last few years. I had stopped at White Church merely for a moment of quiet reflection, but my meeting with Nathaniel was most fortuitous.”  
The man was still smiling with the cheerful ignorance of a dog. Ugh. Asmodeus didn’t know if he wanted to fuck him or slap him.  
“My proposal is quite radical, but it seems Nathaniel has made similar arguments before. In my work at Hornmead, I saw the potential demons have to temper humans and enhance their strengths, but I also saw something else. Demons who, in all their troubles and lusts, are quite like us. Demons who, with guidance... might cease to be demons entirely.”  
The eye contact he made with the Host was both an offer and an appraisal. This man wasn’t stupid. Yet Asmodeus has always prided himself on subtle charms. With the fool backing him, perhaps...  
“With your blessing, I would like to begin work as a professor at White Church. My classes would not detail the destruction of demons, but rather ways in which we might use them to better humanity—and perhaps the demons themselves.”  
The man's grin twitched ever so slightly upwards. He took a sip of his wine before moving forward.  
"What a fascinating theory. To assume that those whom our lord has cast away to be damned could ultimately be saved and redeemed by his flock. Oh, the nerve, the gall, the audacity…"  
Nathaniel groaned.  
"Nicky please!"  
"And yet, perhaps that is why we are not so different, and if our souls deserve forgiveness then—"  
"Then so does everyone else's yes!" Another sip of his wine, and that ever present grin on his face.  
"Very well, I'll allow it." The Host offered, turning to his desk, searching through the drawers without setting his glass down. Paused, turned to them. Asmodeus could swear his grin had widened again.  
"Oh, you ARE baptized, aren't you, professor Asmodeus? It would simply not do to assign such an important task to an outsider. It would not be fair to our Churchwhites, you see."  
"I can baptize him, I can baptize him right now!"  
"Wonderful! You are free to use the pool outside, I blessed the water myself this morning."  
So the Host wasn’t as big a fool as his twittering seraph. Not unexpected. Still an annoyance. Yet this was still a far easier reaping than anticipated.  
Asmodeus’ eyes shifted to Nathaniel, the man twitching excitedly at his side, arms outstretched.  
“Ahem.”  
“Oh! Oh, right!”  
“It is an honor to be offered baptism in water of your own blessing, Great Host, but unfortunately do to the nature of my profession, several of my servants are currently with me—and I’m afraid the blessings would, in their current state, prove quite lethal to them. May I be given a little time to set them aside before we begin?”  
The man's grin thinned even as it grew.  
"Nonsense, professor. Are you not a man of faith? We must all prove ourselves worthy of the Lord's missions. This will be a test for both you and your companions. If it is meant to be, then you have nothing to fear. If not… well, a small sacrifice to make for the salvation of so many souls."  
"What?"  
"Nathaniel, please."  
Gloved hands clasped him on both sides, pinning his arms to his torso as they lifted him up in the air.  
"WHAT?!"  
"Baptism! Baptism! BAPTISSSSMM!" Easily and quickly he was carted away, to the placid pool the Host had been speaking of, as he tried to conjure a spell to free himself—he was chucked straight down into the blessed water, sinking as he screamed and screamed and… He broke out of the water, gasping for breath and trembling, wondering why he hadn't dissolved as if in acid, spitting what liquid had gotten into his mouth. Before him and on his knees, the priest, gasping with tears in his eyes.  
"Nicky, do you see?! Truly a miracle! God's will! Oh I know it, our meeting was preordained—welcome to White Church, professor!" And behind him, the host, chortling quietly before taking a sip of his wine.

Fuck the clergy. Fuck the clergy. FUCK. THE. CLERGY.  
Asmodeus wobbled out of the water like a wet rat. A shake and a snap of magic and he was dry again, but he still felt... less than dignified.  
He’d wipe the smile off the Host’s face. He’d do it if it took him a THOUSAND FUCKING YEARS.  
Why hadn’t it burned him? Had his magic become so ascendant? Was god so eager to be overthrown? Or was the pool just a fucking bath for the laughing prick and contained no holy water at all?  
Probably that. Asmodeus pushed the boiling rage back and presented calm and composure.  
We’ll see who laughs when I’m fucking your seraph and pillaging your church.  
“A miracle indeed. Thank you for your time and your blessing, most glorious Host. Should I begin arranging my quarters?”  
"It is of no trouble at all, brother. Please, let Father Nathaniel take care of everything. You have my blessing." A letter passed over to the priest who even now was hopping up and down with glee. A moment later he'd scooped the Host up in a tight hug, crushing, and Asmodeus was glad to see a brief grimace on his face at that. Hah, served him right!  
A few pats convinced the priest to let go, while 'Nicky' sighed, dusting himself off before he added.  
"Now, Nathaniel, please be sure to learn as much as you can from our dear professor, and aid him as you see fit." With that he turned to Asmodeus—and the grin returned.  
"Nathaniel is my most trusted Seraph. He is truly relentless in his pursuits. I'm sure with his help you will accomplish our lord's will."  
"Awww, Nicky!"  
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend."

And with that, a man filled with demons became White Church’s newest professor.

Asmodeus felt something like giddy, for the first time in a good long while, as he stood before his new dormitory, free of the Host and surrounded by vulnerable, sumptuous ducklings. Even Nathaniel’s presence now seemed a highlight; the man talked too much, but when you filtered that out, he was very nice to look at.

Oh, this was going to be FUN!


	2. Chapter 2

Unlike Hornmead and Staghead, which functioned almost solely as universities and didn’t host students in the off seasons, White Church was—well—a church, open to crawling sinners all year round. This meant Asmodeus had a month to prepare for his little “classes” and still had plenty of witless victims to exploit in the meantime—his wayward wolf among them.

To say nothing of the clergy.

He had been introduced to the rest of the clergy during a meeting where Nathaniel giddily announced his joining to the church and their new project. Protests were loud and immediate, but they were no match for 'He is freshly baptized by The Host himself' and The Host's stamp of approval on the parchment he'd given them.

It didn't mean he had been accepted. The glares and hushed arguments continued, but with the Host's approval and Nathaniel's support, there was little anyone could do. For the most part, the rest of the clergy stayed away from him, which served him just fine. But still, two remained. Nathaniel himself, of course, who had become an energetic shadow. And another one. The priest's previous companion, glowering at him through a golden and a blue eye.  
"This is ridiculous—The Host is ridiculous! How could he allow this!"  
"Brother Artemis, isn't that blasphemy?"  
"It is NOT! The Host is but a man OBVIOUSLY capable of terrible mistakes. Only God is free of criticism!"  
"Yes, well, he was baptized before my very own eyes and did not explode! Truly a miracle—is that not God's message?"  
"Was he really? Did you see him bless the water, father Nathaniel, did you?! I didn't think so!"  
And at that Asmodeus blinked, wide-eyed, pulling a hand to his chest in the sort of innocuous shocked expression that Nathaniel probably thought was authentic.  
“Brother Artemis, are you implying the Host of Seraphim has willfully neglected to attend one of his most sacred duties?”  
“No—no—but maybe he—forgot—“  
“Brother Artemis, I believe you are the one forgetting something.”  
Asmodeus cast his eyes to the heavens, hands clasped, alight with piety.  
“Even if The Great Host did forget, could you call the innumerable circumstances that led to me being here, now, doing such vital work, anything but the guiding act of God’s gentle hands?”  
Bahahaha oh Nathaniel was CRYING again!  
And Artemis audibly gritted his teeth at that, hands crossed over his chest but very much wanting to be clasped around his neck instead.  
"Oh, maybe. Or MAYBE it is all part of God's plans that you be SMITTEN for your sins after Father Nathaniel FINALLY sees the error of his ways. But we have yet to see, don't we, Brother Asmodeus?"   
Nathaniel gasped, horrified.  
"Brother Artemis how could you say such a thing? Where is your tolerance?!"  
"Father Nathaniel there is not a single instance of the use of the word 'tolerance' in the sacred scripts—" And then the two engaged each other in a heated discussion of what was and wasn't proper religious etiquette.  
“Brother Artemis,” Asmodeus offered, cutting in, “as important as discussion of the divine text is, I’m afraid me and—“  
Should he? Would he? YES.  
“Daddy Nathaniel must return to planning our courses—“  
You could almost see the scream bottling up in the stupid little priest. Nathaniel just grinned.  
“Oh, I’m usually called Father, but you can call me daddy if you’d like!”  
“Thanks, daddy. I still have so much to learn.”  
"What?! WHAT?! No! You canNOT call him daddy—"   
"Oh brother Artemis, please there's no need to feel jealous. All the members of the church are like my very own children. You are free to call me daddy as well—"  
"I WILL NOT!"   
Some more screaming, several attempts to exorcise him and a minor squabble again, Nathaniel had locked the other clergy man out, sighing and wiping at his forehead.  
"Sorry about that, Asmodeus. I guess I should keep close to you while everyone gets used to it, to avoid any more conflict."  
“Thank you, daddy. I’ll confess it’s been a bit hard, but I know you’ll whip everyone into submission.”  
“Haha! Well, I prefer a gentler way, but—“

The next hour of office arranging was packed with every innuendo Asmodeus had ever heard or imagined and the priest was STILL oblivious. What a charming dog.  
With that finished Nathaniel gave him something of an impromptu tour, babbling about the history and relics of the buildings around them. It was basically a plunderer’s guide to what was worth plundering, so Asmodeus actually listened with interest to most of it—  
Until something else caught his attention.

Nathaniel had been ecstatic about Asmodeus actually asking questions, and as usual he kept babbling away unprompted for a good two minutes after he’d answered. Only then did he realize the sorcerer wasn’t looking at him anymore.  
They were passing through an outdoor corridor of statues. Saints preserved in serene marble, framed by chiseled wings. The one Asmodeus stood before was a woman. What had once been a crown of roses had cascaded in crimson waves across her hair.  
“And which of your innumerable saints is this?”  
“Saint Isabel—one of the major matrons of redemptive love! A great fit for what we’re doing!”  
“Yes. Fitting.”  
Nathaniel stopped mid-mouth-opening. His companion looked abnormally weary. Asmodeus dropped his head and turned away.  
“If you’ll excuse me, daddy Nathaniel, I think I’ll return to my quarters to sort my papers.”  
Not unexpectedly, Nathaniel followed. Quite unexpectedly, however, he was silent, observing him as he fell into step behind him. He wasn't quiet for long, however, opening his mouth, reaching out—Asmodeus screeched as Nathaniel's hand upon his shoulder sent another wave of burning that peeled another dozen or so demons off him and turned him to dust.  
"Sorry! Sorry I'm just not used to wearing gloves around White Church—" He managed while pulling said gloves on.  
"Listen, Asmodeus. I know it must be hard for you, joining a new community, and facing everyone's criticism. I can't even begin to imagine, but," the priest reached out, taking both of his hands in his, smiling down at him. A genuine gesture, unlike any other he'd received.  
"If you need someone to talk to, I want you to know that I'm here for you."  
Asmodeus looked up at him. The demons in his head fell silent for the first time in years.  
Curious, how many forgotten memories this man evoked.  
“Nathaniel.”  
“Yes?”  
“Do you drink?”

Nathaniel not only DID drink, he knew the best bars in town! He knew nearly every regular and those he didn’t know he made a POINT to know. He chitted and chatted about all the latest gossip and his new gallant friend and his noble mission all while tucking away a respectable amount of alcohol. As a fresh beer was placed in his hand he turned from the crowd to Asmodeus, smiling, and—oh, oh dear.  
The sorcerer was face-down on the counter surrounded by shot glasses. He offered the priest a crooked smile.  
“Don’t worry, the demons take half of it. Give me another.”  
The bartender looked disgusted. Asmodeus rapped a few coins emphatically against the counter and another shot was slid his way regardless. Asmodeus groped around the space to left and right of it, sighed, crossed his arms and finally managed to grab it.  
Nathaniel left the crowd to pull over a stool and sit by Asmodeus’ side, setting his beer on the table and peering at him.  
“You okay there buddy? Think maybe it’s time to go home?”  
Asmodeus’ answer was to, with great delicacy, tilt his head back and let the next shot slip down his throat.   
He smacked the empty glass back down.  
“Nope. The demons aren’t done yet, Nathaniel.”  
At the mention of demons, Nathaniel’s eyes widened, sparkling with wonder.  
“Hey, since we’re not at White Church anymore, do you think I can see one of your demons? I’ll try not to exorcise them I swear!”  
Asmodeus propped himself up just enough to stare at Nathaniel, heavy-lidded. His last few attempts to not purge him of his servants hadn’t exactly succeeded. But he supposed he could spare a little one—  
Abruptly his eyes brightened. Oh no! He had a much better one!  
“Phile—“  
A different voice answered him. He blinked, scowled.  
 _He is a priest, you realize? If he—  
Oh, alright. Do whatever the hell you want._  
The other men in the bar were pushing their noses over, as exuberant as if he were about to pull a stripper from his pocket. Then again, perhaps he was.  
Asmodeus’ voice was low, guttural.

“Maeve.”

His voice echoed around the place, reverberating, the lights flickering briefly. Asmodeus smiled, leaning forward and resting his chin upon his hand.  
"Hello, daddy."   
Every onlooker groaned in disappointment and drifted away. Even Nathaniel seemed to deflate, taking another sip of his beer.  
"No I mean like, actually SEE them!"  
"Oh? Well, if you insist."   
The lights went out like a candle blown suddenly away, startled cries rising around as people stumbled and groped their way around. Several flicked matches, but none of them sparked. The sound of giggles and skittering echoed around the room, with more than one person crying out that 'something's touching me!'. The whole floor rumbled, the floorboards creaked. Nathaniel frowned and set his beer down upon the counter and the lights flickered back on.  
Asmodeus was gone, and in his place. A woman, with pale skin and vibrant red hair, bright blue pupils in a sea of black and thick horns adorning her head like a dark crown, sitting the same way Asmodeus had been. And she was naked.  
A stunned stupor of silence.  
And then a standing ovation, whistles, cheers, men hooting and slamming rhythmically on the tabletops.  
“Yah! Yah! YAH!”  
“Now that’s a WOMAN!”  
“Damn, Nathaniel, thought that was a dude!”  
Every single pair of eyes was on her. Except for Nathaniel's, who after insisting on looking at her had now turned away towards the mob. Back to her, towards the mob. A quick shuffling saw him out of his jacket and placed carefully over her shoulders, covering up. Groans and curses.  
"Hey—HEY! Have some respect for the lady alright!" And the lady in question only had eyes for him. Nathaniel paused at a pressure on his chest. He looked down, saw a single one of her fingers pressing there, sizzling black as it came in contact with the seals drawn upon his skin.  
He gasped.  
"How are you doing that?"   
Her finger moved, sliding. Left, right, right, left, and always downwards.  
"Oh, this? Just an old little trick. That's quite the mousetrap you've got there. But it's not much of a threat if you know how to snap it."   
The ink felt warm upon his skin, burning, running like melting wax as she moved and moved and moved, slithering—Nathaniel pulled back, stumbling and panting. She laughed.  
"Oh, you don't want to play anymore? That's alright. We have plenty of friends to play here… but don't worry, I promise I'll try not to eat any of them," she purred, winking. With that she turned away from him, leaning back against the bar, his jacket falling open as she crossed her legs.  
"So which one of you wants to have a little fun?~"  
The energy skyrocketed; Nathaniel stumbled backwards as others clambered eagerly forward, cat calling and snapping out reasons that they were the best of all choices. Even the bartender had entirely given up feigning disinterest, staring unsubtly at Maeve’s tits. Someone’s pants unzipped; shouts of outrage promptly followed.  
Nathaniel tried to shove his way past the crowd as well but for reasons far different than the others.  
"Wait—wait! Isn't that—wouldn't he—where is Asmodeus?!"   
"Oh, he is right here, don't worry your little head about him," she commented iddly as she looked over row after row of giddy lined up men, humming happily and pausing before one. The tallest, buffest man in the entire bar, twice Nathaniel's size. The grin on her face was decidedly demonic.  
"And he's going to feel every bit of this in the morning~" She purred, crouching before him and unzipping his pants. A frantic incantation, the sea of men parting before him to let him stumble forward. He wrapped arms around her and pulled her back without thinking, and the zap of energy shocked them both—possession dispelled as they tumbled backwards. Asmodeus in his arms, drunk and dressed and not burning alive in his arms. Nathaniel panted, then looked up at the sound of groans and angry cries.  
"No! Bad Jedemiah and David and Ben and—All of you! NONE of you are free of sin and I best be seeing you in line for the confessionary at Sunday service!" He snapped, pointing fingers and pulling Asmodeus out of the bar while worrying that he was sounding exactly like Artemis.  
The sorcerer was sloppy drunk in his hold, which meant directing him was surprisingly similar to handling a delightful kitten; the man half fell asleep every other step, wobbling on his feet, and when Nathaniel finally just gave in and carried him he was soft and warm and melded to him like he was boneless. Nathaniel could almost hear a purr—or maybe that was just his personal hope.  
As glad as he was that the closeness wasn’t combusting his companion on contact, it meant, troublingly, that his defenses were no longer intact. He’d have to—  
“Thanks, Nathaniel.”  
It was hard to say which of the two was more surprised by the statement. Probably Asmodeus; Nathaniel still had hope left. The man’s face furrowed and he looked away.  
“Put—put me down for a minute, I need to—ugh—“  
“Do you need help?”  
“No, no—“  
Nathaniel hung back as Asmodeus lurched forward, bent over and—  
Eughhh. Was something MOVING in it? Oh! Oh! Something WAS! And oh even if it was a nasty little vomit-demon it still deserved love and a chance at redemption all the same!  
Nathaniel was already advancing, arms outstretched, when Asmodeus speared it beneath his shoe.  
Nathaniel’s gasp was a watery warble of anguish.  
“ASMODEUS! We’re supposed to—to... Asmodeus...?”  
The man had straightened. The nearby street lamps flickered and burst. Everything was cold.

Soft. Deliberate. Every step accented, the grass crisping and dying beneath his feet. The man who turned to look at him was not Asmodeus. Not quite. His eyes were a thousand eyes, glittering like clustered beetles, and something more feather than hair rustled along his head.  
The thing crooked its head and smiled at him and Nathaniel’s mind pulsed.  
A pallid sky. Cold. A great ocean. A man and a woman. Asmodeus—red hair—  
She was gone. Asmodeus stepped off the cliff. He fell. Something massive—something in the water—  
A serpent eating a serpent eating a serpent, rising up to meet him.

Nathaniel barked a prayer ward and his vision cleared. His hands folded reluctantly into fists even as he took a step back.  
“Asmodeus! Asmodeus snap out of it!”  
And—the man shook himself all over and was HIMSELF again, albeit more livid than before. He snarled.  
“Do that again and I’ll baptize you in something a lot more potent than that fucking pisswater!”  
Another shake, like a wet dog, and then he was back to looking miserable and drunk.  
“I’m remembering why I stopped drinking.”  
A second of stillness, and then the priest was surging forward, pulling the mage into his hold without hesitation. Asmodeus went limp into that warm embrace, closing his eyes and reaching out to cling back—  
Nathaniel pulled away, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him.  
"Asmodeus! That demon—you were going to—and then—and she said—and you would feel it in the morning—Oh god it was like you were a sock puppet! Except she was the sock and also the hand controlling the sock and I guess you were the puppet soul? Anyways there need to be boundaries—" He paused, gasped.  
"That's it! That should be our first class! boundaries and consent! Oh this is amazing, I'm so glad we came out here!"  
“You want to teach demons about boundaries and consent.”  
“YES! Isn’t that a great idea?!”  
“Oh, yes. Now carry me, please.”

Asmodeus spent the entire trip back in alcohol-induced unconsciousness, but that didn’t deter Nathaniel in the slightest. Even when they’d arrived back at White Church and the priest had tucked the sorcerer affectionately in his new bed he continued to babble. After a rousing round of discussion on theology, kittens, and the best tasting sacred wines, the topic drew closer to home.  
“And you know, hey, you should meet my family sometime! Wouldn’t that be fun? I have a son named Van—“  
And now, for the first time since their return, Asmodeus stirred.  
“A son?”  
“Yes! He’s a great kid—the BEST kid! You can tell he’s a real deep thinker because he doesn’t talk, like, at ALL! Probably gets it from me.”  
“Is he handsome?”  
“Oh YES!”  
Asmodeus had been lying with his back to him, but at this he suddenly turned.   
“I know where he gets that from.”  
A hand raised to Nathaniel’s face, and settled delicate fingers down his jaw.  
“No runes up here. I’m glad. They’d obstruct the view.”  
Nathaniel’s eyes widened and he gasped.  
“That is exactly what Nicky said when he made them! You know, you two would probably be great friends, we should hang out more—Oh, I actually have to go visit him again to get them fixed. You should come with me.” At that the man pulled back, but only enough to give himself space to open up his shirt, revealing the well toned chest of a fighter, crisscrossed with what used to be solid lines of ink, now turned to dim and runny watercolors. All except for one. A mark over his chest which Asmodeus recognized as protection against possession.  
“Can you ask your lady demon friend what she did?"  
Asmodeus whistled in purely innocuous appreciation for the marvelous theological wonder that was the protective spell work on Nathaniel’s chest.  
“Oh, well, let me consult her right away! Uh huh. Mmhm. She says the only way to really explain what she did would be by seeing all of your tattoos, Nathaniel, and I must confess, I’m curious at just how deep your defenses run. Such marvelous power for good.”  
Nathaniel sighed as if annoyed.  
“Ugh, you know it’s a full body deal so...” he said as he shrugged out of his shirt as if following the most innocuous of requests. Hands dropped down to undo the pants and a thousand demons squealed excitedly inside the mage’s head. There however, the priest paused, looking down at his own chest.  
“Is... is it leaking? ...it is! Asmodeus look!” Asmodeus’ hand fetched up and pressed against the warm and slick expanse of the man’s chest.  
AhahahaHAHAHA.  
Asmodeus’ hand remained very steady as he looked the picture of a scholar, lips a straight disinterested line.   
“Yes, there is quite a bit of leaking.”  
Ahaha.  
“Even so, I’ve never seen such an exquisite...”  
His fingers traced up a steel abdomen to the outline of powerful chest, all while following the flow of ink.  
“Series of runes. Defense and offense together. Genius.”  
His hand ran s l o w l y down to the man’s hip.  
“Now show me the rest...”  
He skimmed, ever so lightly, along the edging of Nathaniel’s pants.  
“So I can see if I can fix this.”  
Nathaniel frowned.  
"I think you're actually making it worse," he commented before standing up and moving to the mirror in the room to look at himself and the smears that Asmodeus tracing had left upon the markings. It took everything he had to keep his demons from lurching forward and after him, all of them screaming at him to take the fucking priest already.  
"Oh well, it's alright, as long as this one's still in place I should be fine," he mentioned, rubbing at the last remaining rune over his chest to make sure it wouldn't wear off.  
Even through the remaining cloth, the truth from this angle was blazingly obvious; Nathaniel had a SCRUMPTIOUS ass.  
A thousand voices howled for it, but it was Maeve’s that stood out.  
 _Take what’s yours, sugar._  
Asmodeus’ hand struck like a viper at the cheeks. Nathaniel caught it in midair.  
Silence.  
And then the man turned, beaming.  
“Asmodeus! Were you helping me test my demon fighting reflexes?!”  
“Yes. Your armor really is infallible, daddy.”  
“Thanks!”  
“Of course. Now I’m afraid my demons are getting ready for bed, so if you’d like me to check you out, it really must be now.”  
"Oh well, if that's the case I really wouldn't want to keep any of you up longer! We have to get up early tomorrow for service, after all," the man said good naturedly as he stepped away and fetched his shirt, buttoning it back up and hiding the sight of his perfect six pack under white cloth. His demons howled and and clawed at the prison of his body, the light above them flickering. Nathaniel looked up, noticing.  
"Now now, everyone settle down or no more visits to the bar. Good night!" A farewell wave, and the meal they'd so longed for was out the door. The light flickered again and went out, and he was left in total darkness. Slender fingers caressed his skin, slowly traced down.  
"Not good, Asmodeus. Letting my meal slip so easily through your fingers. You'll have to make up for it~" Maeve's voice, sickly sweet against his ear.  
Asmodeus’ answer was a sound of exhausted exasperation.  
“Not tonight. I’m tired.”  
“But master, we are ever so hungry.”  
A voice directly behind him. Despite himself the sorcerer’s hackles rose; he turned to see another pair of eyes in the dark, higher than his own, amused.  
In doing so he backed into a chest too broad and muscled to be female. He snarled and rounded about again.   
“Not TONIGHT, I said!”  
Someone giggled. Hands brushed down his hips. He snapped and jerked his head backwards, and the light sizzled back on, dimly.  
Where Maeve had stood there were now dozens of other bodies. Their eyes were bright even when the light died, as were the shapes of their smiles.  
A strong form drew him close, tracing his shape. Another knelt before his groin and began to open his pants.   
Asmodeus ripped himself away from both and smashed into another body. Every turn was blocked, arms outstretched, his skin flushing with something other than arousal as his clothes were worked away.  
Asmodeus felt the bile rising in his throat, and for a single solitary moment, he had the discomfiting thought that he was not in control of the situation.  
“No—no—I SAID NO—“  
“Asmodeus.”  
Maeve’s familiar lull. Her hands tangled in his hair, drew him close, kissed.  
She tasted like blood.  
“Asmodeus, dear, this is what you wanted.”  
Her voice was sweet poison. A hand draped down his inner thigh—many hands—and Asmodeus felt an almost frantic relief crash over him. Yes, yes—this was what he wanted. This was his choice. He didn’t need to think about anything else, and certainly not about Nathaniel.  
He surrendered to the kiss. They descended on him, and the light flickered out.


End file.
